Twas the Night Before Christmas- DC Style

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through DC,
Not a politician was cooperating, not Hatch or Pelosi.
The Democrats were fighting and not always real fair,
In hopes all Americans would have universal health care.

The pundits were nestled all snug in their beds,
Who’ll win this new battle, the blues or the reds?
Michele Obama in her kerchief and Barack in his cap
Had just settled America for a long 4 year nap.

When out on the South Lawn while Biden worked on his tan,
Barack proclaimed to all who’d hear, “Change? Yes we can!”
Away to the cameras, every reporter had the urge,
We’re now focusing on Afghanistan; it’s time for a surge.

Glenn Beck on the TV for the viewers of Fox News Channel,
Gave the lustre of The Tea Party to an angry progressive panel.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But 8 of our past Presidents, the ghosts of yester year.

Now Washington, Now Adams, Now Jefferson and Hayes
On FDR, On Woodrow, On Lincoln and JFK.
To our monuments! To our legacy! To the constitution we wrote,
We’ll protect our borders and we don’t need a moat.

And then in a twinkling through the darkness and din,
Appeared another great man, his name was Ben Franklin.
Down the chimney he arrived, he came with a bound,
There was hope on the way; he’d turn this country around.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to work,
The Democrats didn’t like him, the Republicans went berzerk.
And then in a flash, with a laugh that was hearty,
He proclaimed his first law, no more political parties.

He wrote this new law with a pen that was feather,
We’ll end all of this fighting and instead work together.
Over the next few days they cancelled all programs pending,
They agreed to do what was right and reduce government spending.

It took a bit of time, but on Christmas Eve they were done,
They had all got along, and some even had fun.
Taxes were now lower and our troops back on US soil,
Ben’s job was now finished, he’d put an end to the turmoil.

He sprang to his feet, threw the old budget in the trash,
Collected all of the Presidents and vanished in a flash.
But I heard him exclaim, before they disappeared from my sight,
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a Good Night!

O, I'm Positive

A letter to my blood donation recipient:


Let’s get the pleasantries out of the way first. You’re welcome. The real meaning of this letter is to let you know what you’ve inherited by consuming my blood.

I’d like to apologize for the roughly 14 cookies, 2 pieces of toast, 1 Venti mocha, 5 buffalo wings, 5 oriental buffalo wings, 2 Auntie Annie Pretzels (one jalapeño & one garlic), and 2 air heads that I consumed prior to the blood donation. While we are at it, I’d also like to apologize for the roughly 25 cookies, ½ pound of cheese, ¼ of a roll of Italian salami, multiple slices of peppered salami, 2 tuna fish sandwiches, and every other holiday related piece of garbage I’ve put in my body over the past 48 hours.

Further, you may find some strange things happening to you over the next few days and weeks. Don’t be alarmed if you find yourself listening to Abba. I’ve recently discovered that Agneth Faltskog is very 70’s attractive and somehow their music is now palatable. Don’t be worried if you now watch Glenn Beck on the Fox News Channel. While I don’t particularly agree with his politics, the guy can spin a good yarn and I just like to hear him talk. Don’t be scared if you suddenly have a craving for pickled herring. I had it the other day and it really just tastes like tuna fish and is pretty good on a salty cracker. And don’t freak out if you find yourself shedding a tear for Brittany Murphy. Not that I was a fan or even saw her movies, but I find the death of any young actor or actress incredibly sad and depressing.

You may also experience some feelings that you’ve never felt before. For example, you may find yourself equally repulsed by Meryl Streep, Renee Zellweger, Rosie O’Donnell, and mushrooms. You may also find yourself annoyed by slow parkers, speed bump stoppers, red light non-turners, screaming children, bells, chalkboards, wet paint, long nails, dry skin, static cling, Mondays, bail bondsman commercials, QVC, and people who stand way to close when they talk to you. You may find yourself hating mushrooms, parsley, cilantro, cloves, and quiche. Alternatively, you almost certainly will now be drawn to any sugar based candy, hot pockets, microwaveable pizzas, key lime pie yogurt, Red Robin’s A-1 Steakhouse burger, ginger chews, and black licorice.

My recommendation is to just sit back, relax, and enjoy the flow. While not perfect the O positive I’ve given you has worked pretty well for me the past 3 plus decades and I’m sure it will do the same for you. So no further thank you’s are necessary. No need to bake me a pie or hand me the keys to the city. I’ve done nothing that any other universal donor wouldn’t do with an hour to kill during the holiday season. Just live your life without wax and we’ll call it even.

First Paragraph- The Legend of Lost Creek Lane

Lost Creek Lane was nestled in the woods, barely visible to those who passed its entrance while on the busy two lane road. The sign to the road was partially obstructed and the overgrowth of trees would cause you to entirely miss the entrance unless you specifically knew it was there. Accessibility was not really an issue anyway given the road gave entrance to a single home almost two miles at the end of the now barely paved path. But Lost Creek Lane did have its share of visitors, however infrequent they may be, and those visitors tended to be important in nature. The owner of the house was a mystery and the nearly 5 acres of electric fencing and vicious guard dogs kept even the most adventurous of onlookers away. Rumor had it the man who owned the house was once a prominent doctor some 40 years ago who’d dropped out of the profession after serious allegations surfaced regarding misappropriations of goods intended for some third world country. Apparently several shipments of medicine as part of the Government’s “Hands Across the Globe” program had gone missing under his watch. But like many things in this part of the country, it was all rumor and innuendo and was never verified despite the many attempts of the gossip hungry town. No one knew his name and he rarely ventured into town. So infrequent were the sightings of him, that many were not even sure he was still alive. And then one fall day he showed up in the middle of town, in the middle of the street, in the middle of the day, incoherent and wobbling back and forth. He was shouting, but his sentences were slurred and the now gathering crowd could only make out an occasional word. When asked later, one onlooker would swear she heard the word “fault”; another would attest to hearing “surgery”; and yet another would witness the man slurred “conspiracy”. What all three, and the rest of the crowd, would unanimously agree upon is the man’s slurring and wobbling both stopped when a sniper’s bullet ripped through the side of his head.